Work before Play
by Daughter of Nature
Summary: Work before play, and a play before work. Clary/Mattes, written for the 2010 Peculiar Pairings Ficathon on Goldenlake. Set the night/morning after Clary's jaw is injured.


"_All _the bribe money? That's hard."

"I'm short of coin this month," Clary retorted. He shot her a cheeky grin and she kicked his ankle lightly. "Maybe she'll be wise and make 'im pay 'er two silver nobles, keep th' extra half for 'erself."

Mattes, curse him, was still grinning at her. "Doesn't explain why you're short of coin though," he said smugly. "Is the old Clary coming back for a visit?"

Clary glared at him. "I 'nly bought that one roll of cloth for a new dress, an' you don't know a sarden thing about mot's clothes 'cept for how to get 'em off, so shut your gob." She touched her jaw gently and winced. "And Goddess knows I d'serve the odd treat in a job like this, afore some cracknob does me in proper."

"Speaking of cracknobs, you should know that I'm not one."

"Don' know where you'd get an idea like that from."

"Look me in the eye and tell me that Tom's not in Blue Harbour," Mattes challenged. Clary didn't move, and he grinned triumphantly. "I hope you realise that this means I'm either coming home with you or you're coming home with me," he told her. "The healer said you weren't to be left alone after that bump on your head."

"It wouldn' be a problem if my sarden useless par'ner had caugh' me as I fell," she snapped.

"You want me to tell that healer and our Puppy that you lied about your man waiting at home?" Mattes asked mildly. She didn't respond, so he tried persuasion instead. "I'll run you a bath and scrub your back for you, and bring you tea and porridge in the morning. You can't refuse an offer like that."

Clary rolled her eyes. "I can look af'er myself, Mattes."

"Clearly you can't be left alone, you're not talking right."

"'s my jaw," she snapped. "My head is fine."

Mattes grinned. "And how are you going to prove that without going back to the healer?"

Clary thought about it. "Bastard," she muttered, and set off in the direction of his rooms.

…

"Morning. That bruise looks impressive. Feeling any better?"

Clary eyed him for a long moment, taking into account her surroundings and the way she was snuggled up against him, his arm around her waist. More awake now, she lifted her hand to her jaw and touched it gently. It was swollen, but it wasn't throbbing at her touch like it had been the night before.

"A little," she answered. Her stomach growled and she remembered her meagre supper. "You promised me porridge."

Mattes laughed. "I did." She started to follow him out of bed but he tucked the covers back around her. "Sleep some more. I'll wake you when it's ready."

It sounded like a good idea, so she snuggled back down and let herself drift back to sleep.

…

It wasn't long before Mattes was climbing back into bed with her, trying to balance a tray of food as he helped her sit up against the pillows.

"I'm not so sick I can't get out of bed," Clary pointed out.

Mattes tucked an arm around her. "Bed's comfier. And look, I brought you eggs too." He took a small spoonful of them and held them up in front of her mouth. "Try them."

Clary rolled her eyes at his boyish enthusiasm and let him feed it to her. "It's good," she admitted, relishing the feeling of the warm food. She raised an eyebrow at the overly proud look on his face. "I know you didn't make them yourself," she pointed out, and took the spoon from his hand. "And I can feed myself."

Mattes pouted at her. "It still took me a lot of effort to walk down the street and convince them to let me bring the food back here."

Clary swallowed her mouthful, then stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

"Gods, you're even more exhausted than I thought."

Clary shrugged. "No more than usual after a healing."

"Even so, usually I'd have had a whack on the-"

Clary tapped his head lightly with the handle of her spoon. "Shut your sarden gob and let me enjoy my food."

Mattes smiled. "That's much better."

…

Clary had barely swallowed the last mouthful when Mattes moved to get out of bed.

"Where are you going?" asked Clary.

"We're off to see Berryman, remember?"

Clary groaned. "Can't he wait just a little while? I just ate." She flung her arm over his chest to stop him from leaving, a weak attempt at pinning him to the bed.

Mattes just laughed. "You'll be fine," he told her.

"He irritates me," Clary complained. An idea occurred to her and her eyes lit up. "Take Cooper instead. _You're_ the one that was so sarden eager for a Puppy."

"Come on, you can't tell me you don't like her at least a little bit after last night."

Clary didn't directly answer, but the corner of her mouth turned upwards. "I think it would be good for her to get to see a proper mage instead of Fulk. And I should really rest some more before duty."

Mattes touched her jaw lightly. "I could always just kiss you better," he offered. He pressed a light kiss to her bruised skin anyway before she could protest. "Is there anywhere else you want me to kiss?"

Clary rolled her eyes and pushed him away. "I thought you wanted to go and see Berryman."

"I do, but-"

"Work before play, Mattes. And, you know what? I think that an hour or two more of rest would put me in a _very _good mood."

Mattes grinned at her and kissed her on the forehead. "Sleep well," he told her, and hurried off to find Cooper.

….

"You're still here."

Clary smiled sleepily at him. "Of course I'm still here."

"I thought you might've snuck home, that's all."

"I'd not offer you…a reward for you work if I didn't want it too, you looby." She sat up and stretched and Mattes stared.

"What happened to the tunic I gave you?"

She eyed him, a slight smirk on her face. "It got uncomfortable."

Mattes couldn't get to the bed quickly enough. "So you slept bare?"

"Mmhmm." She tried to stop her smile from growing bigger at the look on his face. "You don't mind, do you?"

Mattes ran his hands down her side. "Gods, of course not."

Clary pushed his hands away. "None of that until you've told me what happened with Berryman."

"Should've come with us then, shouldn't you?"

Clary ignored him and began to untie the laces on his breeches. "No touching," she told him when he reached for her. She slid her hand a little way inside his breeches, then stopped. "Tell me what happened with Berryman before you forget. From the beginning."

"He was asleep when we got there, and when he saw Cooper he thought there might've been sommat wrong with you, like you were hurt or dead or mayhap going crooked with the stones or sommat."

Clary tilted her head. "You're babbling," she pointed out. "And you're not doing the best job of convincing me to reward you."

"As soon as he saw the stones his eyes got wide like Fulk's did."

Clary slid her hand down further. "Did he lie about them?"

"No. He put water on them and held them in front of a lamp. It brought the colours out. He did it to all of them, and then he thought for a while."

Clary rubbed him through his loincloth and smiled as she felt him grow beneath her hand. "And then?"

"He magicked the room – and us – to check for listening spells." Clary was pushing his breeches and loincloth down, and he decided it was best not to mention that Berryman had again asked if there was a problem with her. "I got Cooper to show him her stone, but didn't tell him about Fulk's reaction to it. Then he put all the stones except Cooper's in a bag and warded it against magical prying. It's in my pocket." He reluctantly reached for it.

"Leave it." Clary squeezed him and he sucked in a sharp breath. "You can show me later. What happened to Cooper's stone?" His eyes had fluttered shut, and he didn't answer. Clary began to draw her hand away, and his eyes flew open. "What happened to Cooper's stone?" she repeated.

"Berryman said it wasn't worth anything, so we let her keep it."

"And then?"

"He said that the stones are raw fire opals. They're rare, very rare, because they're hard to cut, and – gods – uh, he said that the smallest fire opal that could be cut would be worth more than his earnings in a year."

"What do the fire opals do?"

His fingers clenched tightly around fistfuls of the sheets. "Mostly they're valued for their uh, value. Their magical uses are limited. Gods, Clary –"

"Keep talking."

"I – uh, um, they're bewitchers. Mages use them to hold folks' attention and ah, make them open to suggestion."

"Maybe I should use one," Clary teased. "Your attention isn't holding very well."

He looked her over, his eyes full of lust. "It's your fault."

Her movements slowed and she began to draw her hand away. "Is that all?"

"No! There's an auction of fire opals at the end of July and merchants from fifteen countries are coming."

"Hmm." She resumed her attentions, and Mattes closed his eyes. "So he's seen more of these?"

"Two finished stones and, oh gods, a pound of rough ones in the last two months. He doesn't know who the seller is. He said usually only a few enter the market each year."

"And does he know where they come from?"

Mattes spoke, and it took Clary a moment to realise that she couldn't understand his answer. She stopped moving her hand. "Not in Hurdik," she said, fighting a smile. "In Common."

"Gods, Clary, you're – no, don't stop, I'm talking. A mine in Legann and Meron and five in Carthak, but none of them have pink rock like ours. Berryman was horrified at the thought of them coming from the Lower City. You'd have given him an earful. Cooper looked about ready to too." He quickly rolled them so that he was on top of her, her hand pinned between their bodies. "And that's all."

"You're sure that's all?"

Mattes traced the curve of her breast. "I'm sure." He grinned down at her. "I think you need a reward for all that listening."

"You mean you want a reward for all that talking."

"Or mayhap you need punishment for all that teasing." Mattes moved his other hand between her legs, his grin widening as she pressed herself against him. "Whichever way, you told me 'work before play', and I'm most _definitely _done with working."


End file.
